Chapter 3
The early morning sunlight was warm, but not uncomfortably so. Winter was far and away the best time to be in India, and residents and visitors alike knew they had until roughly the end of March before the heat began its oppressive and deadly descent.
A bead of sweat trickled between Anthony’s shoulder blades. He stood in the shade of a large banyan tree outside the Resident’s mansion and looked down the long tree-lined drive at the approaching carriages with his heart in his throat, wishing he could blame the heat for the reason he perspired.
Dylan Stuart, his friend and a military major with the First Cavalry Light Brigade, stood next to him. He was tall, blond, and handsome, with an unapologetic smile on his face. “I do not believe I’ve ever seen you quite so undone, old man.”
Anthony scowled. “I am most certainly not undone.”
“Who is she?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
Dylan laughed. “Come now, Blake, I am no fool. I have known you for more years than I care to count, and I have never seen you rattled.”
Anthony glanced at him askance before returning his attention to the three carriages that grew closer. “The sister of an old friend might be with this Fleet. I am simply seeing to her welfare for his sake.”
Dylan’s lips twitched. “Of course.”
The only bright spot thus far concerning his time in India had been renewing his friendship with Dylan Stuart.
The First Cavalry Light Brigade was headquartered less than a mile from the British Residency compound, and the area boasted nearly as many British citizens as Indian.
Anthony had spent the bulk of his time over the last few weeks trying to pin down Captain Miller—uncle of Harold Miller, the man who had stolen the Janus Document—but the captain was proving as elusive as his nephew.
He was frustrated and tired, and looking forward to the next few minutes with equal parts excitement and dread.
He couldn’t decide if he wanted Sophia to be in one of the carriages or not.
His task was unfinished, so he was still obliged to play his role, as distasteful as it was to him.
The carriages rolled to a stop at the front steps, and Anthony shoved his hands deeply into his pockets to keep from fidgeting.
The first carriage, and then the second, deposited their occupants onto the sprawling front yard of the British Residency.
Young women of all ages gathered on the lawn with exclamations of delight at the sight of the enormous mansion, the trees dripping with moss, the vegetation awash with colorful splendor.
India was a country that invariably evoked an excess of stimulation to the senses—Anthony well remembered his first impressions.
He knew he should favor the ladies with his attention, if only to keep up his appearances of being an unconnected bachelor, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not when Sophia might be the next woman to emerge from the carriage.
Sophia was not among the number of women gathering so he moved slowly to the third carriage, well aware of Dylan hovering behind him like an amused shadow.
The carriage held six occupants, and he began to wonder if Sophia had changed her mind about joining this Fleet.
Jack had written to ask him to see to Sophia’s welfare, if possible, though he’d warned Anthony that Sophia had been hurt by his desertion.
Anthony knew Jack was also frustrated by Anthony’s sudden departure from England to France, and it chafed that he was unable to enlighten his friend fully.
It also chafed that Jack had included a postscript to his note, casually informing him that Sophia had had offers aplenty for her hand since his departure.
Only one woman remained in the final carriage, and he moved forward to nudge the footman out of the way when her head finally appeared in the opening.
Anthony’s heart pounded in his ears. Sophia.
More beautiful, more radiant, more everything.
His memories, hoarded and jealously reviewed in the quiet of his private hours over the last years, hadn’t done her justice.
Before he did something foolish, like weep, he extended his hand and wondered what she was thinking as she stared at him, unblinking.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Elliot, such a surprise and delight to see you here.” His restraint was tested to its fullest as he fought the urge to grab her from the carriage and clasp her close.
There had been a time and place in their relationship when such overt affection would not have shocked those who knew the two of them well.
That time had passed, though, and now all he could do was wait to see if she’d ever take his hand and step out of the conveyance.
He tried to smile but fell well short of the mark.
His heart thumped, and a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.
The color had leeched from her face, and he wondered if she would faint.
It would be a first—Sophia was one of the steadiest people he knew—and he couldn’t decide if he was pleased or upset that the shock of seeing him rattled her nerves.
Her face flushed as blood returned to her cheeks, and she clasped his fingers, stepping out of the carriage.
He was at a complete and total loss for words. An ache in his chest bloomed and climbed into his throat, and he felt his eyes burn. He kept hold of her hand when he should have released it, tugging her closer by small degrees, trying in vain to truly read her.
“I have missed you,” he murmured.
He was gratified to hear the slightest hitch in her breathing, and after one . . . two . . . three long heartbeats, she withdrew her fingers from his.
Who could blame her for maintaining distance?
He’d left her with the impression that they were very good friends and nothing more.
He’d never confessed the depth of his feelings, his intentions to court her, and she’d never learned the true reason he’d left.
The devil of it was, he still wasn’t at liberty to enlighten her.
Until his business was finished, nobody could safely know the full extent of his mission.
“Sophia, I . . . that is . . .” He placed a finger under his collar, cursing the humidity, the starched shirtfront, the cravat, all of it.
“Jack mentioned you might be here, but I suppose I had assumed you would have moved on to Calcutta by now.” She took a quick breath.
Her expression brightened and she smiled.
“It’s been such a long while. I do hope you’ve enjoyed your adventures.
I suspect we shall have time later at dinner, perhaps, and you can entertain me with your tales. ”
So that was how it was to be. He’d been relegated to the status of Admirer; he’d heard that tone in her voice and seen that expression on her face more times than he could count, directed toward gentlemen whose feelings she didn’t necessarily want to bruise, but whose attentions she didn’t necessarily want to encourage.
He supposed he was fortunate she hadn’t smacked him upside the head with her fan—it was no less than he deserved.
“I look forward to it.” He smiled and regained his equilibrium with practiced playacting that had kept him in good graces more than once.
He turned to Dylan, who stood at his elbow and watched with unabashed curiosity.
“May I introduce my good friend, Major Dylan Stuart, who is currently stationed here in Bombay with the First Cavalry Light Brigade. I’ve known him since our early days at Eton, and we spent time together in France during the war.
Major Stuart, Miss Sophia Elliot, granddaughter of the deceased thirteenth Earl of Stansworth and sister to the current earl. ”
Dylan took Sophia’s extended hand and bowed, placing a kiss on the back of her fingers. “A pleasure, my lady.”
Sophia smiled, at her charming best. “My, that certainly is a long association! How wonderful to renew a friendship after so many years. Lord Wilshire is nothing if not constant in his affections for dear friends.”
Anthony winced.
“I believe we share an additional connection, Major Stuart,” she continued. “Your cousin, Miss Rachael Scarsdale, is also among our number, and we became friends on the voyage over.” Sophia craned her head to look at the crowd of young women. She called out to one with a beckoning motion.
The woman approached, as blonde and pretty as the major himself, and her face broke into a wide smile. “Dylan!”
“There she is!” Major Stuart grinned and clasped the woman, swinging her off her feet as she laughed.
“Your mother mentioned your intentions to join the Fleet, but I did not know you were coming this year.” He set her down and drew Sophia into their conversation with a conspiratorial wink.
“Now ladies, I realize the goal of such an expedition is true and everlasting love—preferably within the bounds of holy matrimony—”
Rachael slapped his arm.
“However,” he continued, “as you are both apt to receive multiple proposals daily, I urge you to be selective. And ask me specifically about the suitability of any potential suitor.” He gestured a thumb at Anthony.
“This one hasn’t been here long enough to offer any useful help, but I know every eligible bachelor between here and Calcutta. ” He smiled. “And there are many.”
Rachael laughed. “You are clearly following my mother’s instructions. She cannot help but interfere in my affairs, even a world away.”
Dylan shook his head, a wry smile still in play. “That may or may not be true, I confess nothing; however, I would be remiss in my duties as your doting protector to neglect the warning.”